<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The prettiest flower by DeadGaze</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867824">The prettiest flower</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadGaze/pseuds/DeadGaze'>DeadGaze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Changeling: The Lost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fae durance, Saccharine Horror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:20:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadGaze/pseuds/DeadGaze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>A durance story I wrote for a friend.</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The prettiest flower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A durance story I wrote for a friend.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Briar's memory of her durance didn't come to her all at once. It came in pieces, Memories of conversation, dresses, flowers. It took a little while once she made out of the hedge once and for all, what sort of a picture her dreams were stringing together. At first they were all vaguely pleasant, candy, laughter, beauty in a million forms. But soon she'd remember the before, the strings of a corset, the scrape of eyeliner, the preening hands of the maids, then the after's, the times she was mad, the times she did something the Lady didn't like, the pinches, the slaps across the face, all the times she kissed her better, the times that made her sick to her stomach. After a month or so she remembered things in vivid detail, the times she showed defiance, her 'sisters', the punishments, what the Lady thought was a reward. The Lady. She remembers it all now. Right from the beginning. A little drawback of her wyrd. Her memories of faerie are bright in her memory, especially the bad parts. Most of all she remembers why she left.</p><p>Her memory stretches all the way back to  the first time she saw the lady, and no sooner. She remembers seeing the reflection of a woman in the most startlingly extravagant dress she'd ever seen, out of the corner of her eye. For just a brief moment. In spite of its brevity it left an impression. She was so pretty. Maybe one day I'll look like that. One night she dreamt of wearing such a dress, being the marvel of a crowd. She was always a pretty girl, and she would dream of being like her mom. Her parents loved her dearly, they would take time off from their busy schedules to take care of her, spend time with her, and make her laugh. She loved her parents. But they were often busy with work. When both of them were away they'd call a babysitter. An old bat that she didn't like. She remembers those were the times that the lady would play games in the forest. Flowers would bloom, lights would dance, all very captivating to a young mind, and all too easy to dismiss as being over imaginative by adults at her age. She thought the lady was her friend. Until the day she met her fetch. They'd been playing hide and seek together for a month or so, when the lady introduced her to a shy sprite. The lady introduced it as a new friend for them to play with, it didn't have a face, and it's voice sounded like wind chimes and blowing leaves. It was made of sticks and flowers, and stood at about her height. She thought it might be fun to play with one of the ladies friends. At least once. The sprite said it knew a great place to hide. It also knew a trick that could make it look different. They played for hours, until one round the sprite wasn't found, and she got lost in the woods. She wasn't familiar with the new place that the sprite had showed her. So the lady offered to show her the way, and took her hand. The first time the lady had touched her. That was the day she was stolen. The day her fetch replaced her. The last day she would see her home as it was hers. And after going through the hedge, the last day she would remember her parent's names. As well as her own.</p><p>Briar was a nickname that the lady used when they played, sometimes she'd go so far as to call her Briar Rose, as in sleeping beauty. It didn't make sense to her at the time. But after going through the hedge, it was the only name she remembered for herself, mostly due to the lady repeating it when she checked up on her. Briar could remember almost every detail of her old life as it pertained to the lady, but nothing else. The name of her babysitter, her friends, even her parents. Gone. But she remembered the hedge. It was a terrifying thing. With ugly gnarled trees, and thorny brambles that spread miles high. Though everywhere where the lady walked, the hedge would twist and bend, changing into more of a fairy tale, the brambles would turn to roses, beasts of teeth and claws would suddenly shift into deer, or birds, as if they walked into a magical bubble of prettiness. That was the Lady. Everything under her gaze had to be beautiful, and so it was. Everything in the hedge would change when the lady looked at it, and when she was done with it, it would crumple in on itself and rot into something newly grotesque. But the lady did not care so long as she didn't have to look at it. Briar looked. She thought that the Lady was some sort of fairy godmother. Come to make her life all magic and sparkles. She didn't really notice when her gentle guiding hand that lightly held on to her fingers turned into a full palmed grip on her arm. Nor did she notice when their light walk turned into an excited prance. The lady was happy, very happy it seemed. Though Briar didn't understand at the time why.</p><p>Her house. As Briar remembers it. Was something of a mansion in appearance, and a maze in actuality, though she would grow to know every inch of the building, it still could baffle her at the shear impossibility of its size, she once tried to count every room in the building, until she learned that rooms could be created and destroyed every day. The house was always exactly as the lady wanted it. Enough rooms for everyone, clean, and aesthetically pleasing. Briar's first memory of the Lady's house was being told all the things that she was not to do, she couldn't remember a lot of the things she was being told, it was a lot, don't break this, don't go in there, be a good girl, she was feeling really confused and lost, why was she in this house, who was this lady, why was she telling her what to do. The first mistake she ever made was asking where her parents were. She interrupted, she talked out of turn, and she didn't show respect to her new mother. Briar's punishment was to spend the day with the maids, writing out what she did wrong over, and over, and over. All while the maids looked down on her and grabbed at her if she didn't do as she was told, forcing her to write even when she couldn't anymore. They were creepy things, that moved in a form of stuttered grace. Not a face among them, and each of uniform size and proportion, they seemed to be mannequins made of porcelain. After she had finished 23 pages, she was taken to a room with nothing but a bed roll, it was made of straw, the blanket of rough wool, and the pillow was filled with feathers. Briar cried, she cried, and cried, and then the lady came, she came to soothe her tears, with a mother's warmth and care. But Briar knew this was not her mother. This woman may have been able to stop her crying, and may have opened up her house, but she was a mean woman. Her mommy was different, she couldn't remember how though, and that made her cry again, but not in the Lady's arms, quietly to herself, in the scratchy bed, Exhausted by the walk through the hedge and aching in her hands. alone, as she felt for so long after that night as well.</p><p>The Lady wanted little briar to be pretty, not just act, not just look, but be, in all of it's essence. This meant lessons, this meant practice, she learned ballet, but only enough that she could pirouette, she learned etiquette, of course, and calligraphy, she did not excel in her studies, but she did study. After a few months, the Lady wanted to show off her little girl, she made her wear a heavy dress that matched the Lady's, she wore make-up, thick and layered, and when she was time to leave they traveled by coach, drawn by these strange horse-like creatures. The ride was smooth as silk with the exception of the lady dictating all of her expectations of the young girl, most of which didn't even make sense. It was like she was talking a different language about how she should treat each person. Assuming she was going to meet people. So far she'd seen a few  nonhuman things like the mannequin maids, the fetch, the creatures of the hedge, all of which she couldn't wrap her head around. Not to mention that she couldn't remember her paren- a sudden bump in the road startled Briar. She looked confused at the Lady, the Lady looked back with terse disapproval. "Why were you not paying attention little girl." her voice was tight with pent up rage. </p><p>"Um." was her wilted response</p><p>"Wrong answer." She smacked briar over the head with a fan.</p><p>"OW!" her hands went to her head.</p><p>"Keep those hands down young woman!" Briar's hands went down reflexively. That was how the Lady taught her. Do it right the first time, or be punished. She had a weird idea of punishment. She'd given Briar a proper bed on her second night that if Briar did poorly in her lessons, she would often find things in. Little things, like dice, or spiders. The Lady explained they were there to make her more sensitive, like a princess. In the long run it had the opposite effect. Her bed could be filthy, wet, covered in knick knacks, she could sleep in it. But while she was still young it was very annoying. The Lady was also a fan of little pains, pinches, scratches, slaps on the wrist. Enough that Briar was always nursing some blemish or another. Whenever she showed one her marks the Lady always acted with such concern, like she'd forgotten who created the mark in the first place. In spite of the nonsensical nature of it, it was nice to have someone who cared. When they arrived at their destination, Briar was surprised that they exited on the inside of the building, not only that but there were dozens of weird and downright zany characters dancing, and bouncing around inside the building. They weren't however, cartoonish. They appeared very real, with mouths, and skin, some covered in scales, and yet they moved like liquid, as if they were boneless, as well there were tall looking figures like people that had been stretched, and short and round people that didn't even come up to her ankles. It was all too much to take in at once, and yet the Lady walked through it with such grace and stillness, Briar envied her for a moment. That moment was interrupted when the Lady drew attention to the two of them. "Everyone! Meet my new little human!" Briar was too busy realizing that everyone was looking at her to realize the strangeness that sentence, and it was everyone. Not a single soul in the whole room wasn't looking at her. She felt overly self conscious, and a little bit bashful. "Briar sweetie, why don't you give them a curtsy." Briar curtsied. The crowd oohed. "Pirouette!" She spun. The crowd ahhed. The rest of the night was spent with a crowd of strangers fawning for her attention, it was unsettling to the young briar, but not entirely unpleasant. She would grow to enjoy these gathering, as it was always the best place to meet new friends. Though many were of a very strange sort. She could consider them friends regardless. However it was after each of these meetings that the Lady would always express her best and worst traits. When Briar behaved, she was the happy mother, proud of her daughter, and all kisses and hugs, when Briar wasn't at her best, she become a fountain of vitriol and spite. On one occasion she even but Briar for acting out against a courtier who was getting too touchy. It was an awful tightrope. Maintaining sensibilities in order to please "mother" while also keeping track of who the Lady wished to garner favor from. Briar was a pawn as much as a project at court. She was maneuvered, sacrificed, and made to behave as the Lady pleased. But that's not to say she didn't enjoy it when she got to mock and cajole the Ladies enemies. Though the sacrifices Briar was forced to make when she came of age where the worst part. The Lady cared little for what was done to Briar, so much as who was doing it. Many of Briar's early recollections of her durance were of her time spent in court, being social, or, being used. Very off putting to say the least.</p><p>When Briar was no longer a little girl, the Lady lost some of her interest in her. Her time in faerie had given her a seeming, that off put the Lady, she didn't like the smell of her. At first it was just a nice perfume that set her in a good mood. But as she grew accustomed to it, it reminded her of all the plants that Briar grew. Especially the ones she didn't like. She picked up gardening as a way to pass the time, but it soon became one of her only escapes. She learned a great deal about the plants of faerie, and enough about the plants of her old world to put most botanists to shame. The Lady sometimes gifted her with seeds from the outside world when she was on her best behavior. But one day she stopped. Instead she brought back a sister. A young girl barely older than Briar was when she was kidnapped. She was only 13, but she knew enough of the Lady to know that no one should have to go through what she did. So planned an escape. The first 2 attempts ended in failure, and the punishment was severe both times. Briar lost an eye for a day. The girl lost a leg. But a year later, after studying the hedge and learning how to shape it a little, they succeeded in finding a way out. The girl had already been on her way to becoming a mannequin, and she had lost a limb for the rest of her life. But Briar found a way to get her back to the human world. She had a choice then. Go with her. Or stay. The Lady was a horrible caretaker, cruel, and judgmental, but she had already captured a 3rd daughter and was talking of getting a fourth. Briar decided to help the little girl. But after she found a family to adopt her, and after she found her own way home. After all of the work she put into escaping the Lady, and navigating the hedge. She learned that for her home, only a few weeks had passed, and her fetch was all the cheer of the girl she used to be. Running and playing, making the parents that Briar only barely recognized smile and laugh. As if she never left. As if she had never been taken. As if none of her suffering mattered. As if none of the nights she spent hoping, dreaming that her parents would be better than the Lady. Never happened at all. When the Lady found her, she hadn't had a chance to stop crying. The Lady had hand picked a spot in the fae lands, that moved so slow through time it practically stopped it, and all of the hundreds of maids that took care of her massive house, were all once as human as Briar was. The only difference was that Briar didn't give up. She didn't submit to the Lady's rules, she stayed pretty, and allowed her to tell her what to do, but she was always a weed to the Lady, and yet. The Lady kept her. She was useful to her, like an herb. Briar knew she made the wrong choice for trying to go back to the human world. She knew that the Lady would be furious that she tried and succeeded in some degree in leaving her. However, when the Lady discovered her crying. She was all love and affection. Sweet little thing she repeated. It's ok, she assured. And at the last, "It won't ever happen again." Briar realized something in that moment. The Lady never actually cared about anyone but herself. She thought Briar was crying because she'd run away, and that running was the painful part. Not discovering a fetch that her family loved, not learning that she could never live the life she was meant to, with loving parents and a happy home to live in, not for fear of having to go back. But because she wasn't under the Lady's thumb anymore. The Lady thought the most benevolent thing she could do in the world, was control it. Briar knew she couldn't go back to her old world. She knew that if she didn't go back she would be replaced by another innocent child. She knew that if she stayed, she could show those girls the way back. She didn't like it. But it was the best choice given the circumstances. So she let the Lady take her back. Only, there was one thing young Briar had forgotten in the flurry of kisses that the Lady had given her. It was that, the Lady never let anything Briar did wrong go unpunished. When they arrived back at the house the Lady said this "Briar dear. Would you like to know what it's like to be one of you plants?" It was 4 days before the lady had her maids unbury her. She had died, filled with soil, and sprouting roots, but they plucked her out of the ground by her hair like a carrot. Washed her inside and out, and the lady brought her back with a contract. She had learned an important lesson that day. She hated the Lady, and one day when she was strong enough. She wouldn't come back.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>